A fleet of employees had to be needed to keep the ranch running but so far Jackson had met no one but Guillermo. Another staircase, two half-baths, and a gym filled with Nautilus equipment were down another hallway. And now he stood on a lanai with a swimming pool, hot tub, and a lap pool, the kind that pushed water toward a swimmer so he could swim miles in a tiny space. This must have been the pool Guillermo and Kathleen were talking about earlier.
He watched as, near one of the barns, a horse was led into his own private pool. These people needed to get a serious grip. Could horses even swim?
He spotted Kathleen near the barn, supervising the swimming horse and the worker standing over him. Or her. It? Afternoon nap forgotten, Jackson crossed the yard.
“Mitchum just welcomed me to the family,” he said and then, lowering his voice, “but I’m not sure I want to be even a short-term family member to people who build swimming pools for their horses.”
He expected anger to light Kathleen’s eyes but as she turned to him, he saw laughter. “It’s hydrotherapy, not swimming. We use the pool as resistance training for the younger horses but for Trio here, the pool is true therapy. He took a bad fall at a rodeo a few weeks ago. Take him a little deeper, Barney, I’ll be in in a second. See that wrap?” She turned back to Jackson and pointed to the white wrapping that he could barely see around the horse’s lower leg. Barney, the other trainer, led the horse in until the water brushed his undercarriage.
Scooting off the side of the pool, Kathleen joined the man and the animal in the water. Barney quickly jumped up onto the side of the pool, leaving Kathleen alone in waist-deep water with a thousand pound animal. Jackson wasn’t sure how to feel, other than petrified she might get hurt.
She started talking, her voice modulated low. “Using hydrotherapy, we can help him regain the strength in his knee. It’s his best chance at competing again.”
Jackson was surprised at the steel once more in Kathleen’s voice. She’d been so upset in Mexico he had wondered if she were capable of dealing with tough situations. Obviously, she could. At least with situations not involving Mitchum.
Taking the horse’s halter in one hand, she guided him forward and then backward through the rushing pool water, whispering as if she could will the horse to a full recovery. Well, she’d talked him into this fake marriage. Willing a horse to recover should be child’s play compared to that feat.
She and Barney worked with Trio in the pool for nearly an hour while Jackson watched. Hands sure, the more they worked the more demanding she was with the animal. Pushing him as if he could understand what she wanted from him. Maybe he could. Kathleen never backed down, even when the horse shied away. She moved in front of him. Sweat broke out on her brow and lines of strain deepened at the corners of her mouth. Her light tee-shirt was plastered to her back, from sweat as much as from the water in the pool.
She kept working, pushing the horse harder and harder until Jackson was certain the horse would revolt or Kath would sink below the water in exhaustion.
Neither happened. A few moments later Barney led Trio from the pool as Kathleen lifted herself from the water. She rubbed down the wet horse, telling him what a good job he did all the while, before Barney took him back into the barn. Jackson helped Kathleen to her feet, ignoring the sparks of electricity passing from her hands to his.
Her shorts and tee-shirt stuck to her like a second skin, accentuating the curve of her hips and the weight of her breasts. Jackson couldn’t breathe.
Kathleen slipped her bare feet into hot pink flip-flops, her blue painted toenails poking between the thongs. Sweat broke out on his palms.
This wasn’t going to work. There was no way he could live with Kathleen for the next four weeks and not make a complete fool of himself. He took a step back as the truth about his decision to come to Texas finally revealed itself. It wasn’t just that he felt guilty for proposing, it wasn’t just that he wanted to help a friend. He’d agreed to this crazy plan because he wanted Kathleen. In his bed. Maybe even in his life, long term.
In his head Jackson knew he had a job to do: convince Mitchum they were in love until Kathleen’s birthday. After that, they would both move on with their lives. Getting attached to Kathleen in the meantime was a colossal mistake which he didn’t want to make but one that his heart was already making.
He had to get out. Get away and get his head on straight before he said — or did — something they would both regret.
Getting to San Antonio tomorrow morning was the first step in remembering why falling for Kathleen would be the biggest mistake of his life. Staying away from her tonight would require some fancy footwork.
“I was…um…just going for a walk. What time does our next act start?”
Kathleen bit her lip, confusion painted on her face. Did she feel this connection, too? Or was she only reliving her college crush? Suddenly Jackson needed to know, but he didn’t know how to ask without implying some sort of future for the two of them.
“Dinner’s at six. I could — ”
Before she could say more, could ask him anything he hurried around the side of the barn.
• • •
He hated her. She should never have suggested this stupid plan. Should never have talked him into playing happily ever after with her, even for just a few weeks. She liked her memories of Jackson the way they were — where he was aware of her, liked her well enough. Where she could pretend that maybe, someday, they would have that perfect first date.
But she had ruined her memories and possibly her future with one stupid trip south of the border. She sat down heavily beside the hydrotherapy pool, dangling her feet in the water. She should let him off the hook. Tonight, after dinner she would help him pack his things. Send him back to New York where he so obviously longed to be.
She would deal with Grandfather, put her plans for the ranch on hold, and find a job with a competing stable operation if needed. She could train horses anywhere, and she was young enough that starting over wouldn’t hurt her prospects. Much.
Mickey, a dun Quarter horse, nickered from across the paddock and her heart skipped a beat. Mickey and Stargazer were the horses she would worry over after Grandfather sold the ranch. She’d rescued them both just over a year ago from an owner who wanted to put them down because they weren’t “breed perfect”. They had a genetic disorder causing tremors and in some cases partial paralysis. For both, the tremors were minor but the owner hadn’t cared about anything expect the prize winnings the horses would not bring in for his operation.
Here, the horses had peace and a place to live out their days. Good medical care when needed. There were other horse rescue venues out there, but would she be able to place the horses together? They relied on one another now. Splitting them up would break their hearts. Would break her heart.
She shoved to her feet, annoyed at her maudlin thoughts. She would do her best to find another rescue for them. She would let Jackson off the hook. She would stop being this indecisive woman she’d turned into since Grandfather’s ultimatum over the holidays. He would either accept her plans and support her or he would sell the ranch. She bit her lip. Keeping Jackson here, pretending to be married would only end badly for both of them. She only regretted starting this foolish plot in the first place.
A pretty blue Porsche raced down the road and Kathleen groaned. Vanessa, her younger sister, was back in Lockhardt. Could her day get any worse?
Vanessa stepped from the sports car, daintily placing first one stiletto-clad foot and then the other on the newly cemented drive. The short-skirted suit fit better in her King William district home in San Antonio than on the ranch, but then, Vanessa always thought the ranch beneath her.
Sapphire blue silk perfectly matched the color of her eyes, made her sprayed-on tan look like the real thing and burnished her hair to a near-copper color. Kathleen checked
her still-soaked shorts, flip-flops, and tee-shirt and immediately felt frumpy.
She had nearly swooned in Jackson’s arms wearing clothes that looked like refugees from Good Will? No wonder he had — literally — run for the hills.
Vanessa’s door slammed and she slung her Gucci bag over her shoulder. Looked at the house and then around the fields as if unsure where anyone would be. She spotted Kathleen and stalked across the drive.
“He locked me out! Me! I convinced him to buy a historical home. I am the one who scoured all of the antiques dealers to find suitable furnishings. I supervised the workers to make that house the jewel of the King William Historical District and he locked me out!” She poked her index finger at Kathleen’s wet chest as if she were partially responsible.
“Nice to see you, too, Vanessa. Anything wrong?” Kathleen asked.
Vanessa’s answer was to stalk back to the Porsche, open, and then slam the door. Twice. Kathleen winced for the delicate automobile. Dinner was going to be more interesting than she thought. On the plus side, Vanessa’s ranting might distract Grandfather, once she came clean about the boozapalooza, from the fact that Jackson wasn’t a true grandson-in-law.
As reasonably as she could Kathleen said, “Didn’t Paul tell you he was listing the house as soon as the divorce was finalized? And wasn’t it finalized yesterday, hence your week-long cruise that ended just in time for you to sign the papers?”
She spotted two matching Louis Vuitton suitcases bulging in the back of the vehicle. There was no way Vanessa had packed all of her belongings into the two small cases. Kathleen looked down the road but didn’t see any moving trucks or dust clouds indicating more people were coming to the ranch. Had Paul lost his mind? Vanessa was hard to deal with in a happy mood. Locking her out of their home with not even half of her clothes was a death-wish.
“Don’t start with me, Kathleen,” she said, venom dripping from each word. “He knew I couldn’t possibly be ready to move out before the end of July. I’m on the planning committee for the Alamo Ball, I have regular tennis matches and meetings with the hospital board for the auxiliary dinner. Until the end of July, my schedule was too packed to pack.”
“And yet not so packed you couldn’t vacation for a while.”
Vanessa ignored that. “So he came over while I was at the board meeting, changed the locks, and put two suitcases on the veranda. I don’t even know what he packed in them. And now he won’t answer my calls.” She thrust the offending phone toward Kathleen as if to prove she was being treated badly.
The dreaded bongos from Mexico started pounding behind Kathleen’s temple. “I’ll call Paul for you.” One more project on her plate? No problem. She was Kathleen-the-Dependable. Miss Fix-It. Leading Vanessa onto the patio, she sat her in a comfortable chaise and angled a table umbrella to shade her sister’s fair skin. “We’ll get all of your belongings out of the house.”
Vanessa sniffed. “He also cancelled my credit cards so I couldn’t even get a good hotel room.”
That shouldn’t have surprised Vanessa since she had signed an air-tight prenuptial agreement before marrying Paul, heir to an oil fortune, two years before. If Vanessa expected the ranch to fund her expensive spending habits she could think again, but Kathleen decided to cross that bridge later. For now, she made sure Vanessa was comfortable and made small talk.
“Well, you know Grandfather will be thrilled that you’re home.” She resisted the urge to run her fingers through her hair.
“Like I want to be here on this…ranch when I could be in San Antonio or Dallas, living with civilized people.”
Lord, could she sound more like her mother? Kathleen shivered remembering Gillian, Step-Monster Number Two. The woman could freeze hot water with a single glance. She’d made Kathleen’s twelfth year miserable.
Kathleen bit her cheek to keep from reminding Vanessa that every “civilized person” she knew had given up on her. Vanessa’s recently-exed-husband, an untold number of friends, and even Gillian were at the top of the Don’t Answer Vanessa’s Calls list. If it weren’t for uncivilized ranch dwellers, Vanessa would have been sleeping in her pretty Porsche tonight.
“I’ll just go get you some sweet tea and make sure Guillermo knows you’ll be staying a while.” Kathleen wasn’t certain, but she thought Vanessa said, “No longer than absolutely necessary,” as she closed the patio door.
It was definitely, definitely time to send Jackson back to New York. Before he figured out her family tree had more broken, crazy branches than sane, straight branches.
• • •
Dinner started as a disaster and steadily got worse.
Guillermo made his famous enchiladas, which Vanessa loudly determined to be too hot and — wonder of wonders — made of beef.
“I no longer eat red meat,” she said, pushing the food off of her plate and back into the serving dish. As if anyone wanted to eat food that sat on her plate not five seconds before. “I’ll have a Caesar salad, Guillermo, dressing on the side.”
Kathleen’s father, Nathaniel, walked in at that moment. “Guillermo isn’t your personal servant, Van. Get your own salad if you don’t want to eat with the rest of us.” He sat down, looking tired and slightly woozy. “Sorry I’m late.” He slurred the words, glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner.
Kathleen clenched her fists below the table. He was drunk. Not that the fact should come as a surprise. Nathaniel spent more days drunk, or at the very least tipsy, than he did sober.
“I am a guest and should be treated as such,” Vanessa said, brandishing her fork like the conquistador sword hanging about the mantle in her historic district home. Kathleen vaguely wondered how many of those relics would wind up in the attic at the ranch.
Kathleen watched the two of them like a fast-flying tennis ball at the U.S. Open, wanting to shut them up but unsure how to say so without turning their ire on her — and possibly saying something embarrassing — in front of Jackson.
“You’re family. Now settle down and eat the enchiladas or go get your own damn salad.” With that Nathaniel picked up his own fork and dug in to the meal. As far as he was concerned, the discussion was finished.
Guillermo, sitting at the other end of the table, fork hovering over his plate, looked like Bambi caught in a car’s headlights. Although he worked for Mitchum, the man had never been treated as only an employee. He was first and foremost Mitchum’s oldest friend. They’d ridden the rodeo circuit as young men and when Guillermo broke his left leg, Mitchum saw to his medical care and came up with the Chief-Cook-and-Bottlewasher job.
Mitchum took control of the situation, agreeing with Nathaniel and telling Guillermo to ignore Vanessa. Guillermo ducked his head, grabbed his plate, and returned to the kitchen to eat in peace.
Jackson’s knee brushed hers under the table, pushing her pulse even faster. Kathleen wished she could join Guillermo in the kitchen.
“Don’t you wish you were in the kitchen, too?” The words, barely more than a whisper, made Kathleen catch her breath. Could Jackson read her mind? His hand found her knee under the table and squeezed.
“And you, Miss Vanessa,” Mitchum said, drawing out his Texas twang as much as he could. “You should be more polite when we have guests.”
Vanessa looked around the table, bewildered, until her eyes caught on Jackson. Caught and warmed. Vanessa undoubtedly saw a conquest in Kathleen’s new husband. Kathleen dug her fingernails into her palms to keep from throttling her newly divorced sister.
“Van, meet Jackson Taylor, Kathleen’s new husband,” Mitchum crowed. Vanessa’s eyes darkened, her mouth flattened, and she dropped her fork on the antique china plate their great-great-grandmother brought to Texas from Philadelphia. Kathleen winced.
“Hello — ” Jackson began but stopped short.
Crocodile tears pricked Vanessa’s eyes
. She stood abruptly, knocking her chair onto the floor and cried, “How could you? How could you?” before running from the room.
“I seem to have made an impression,” Jackson whispered beside her.
Kathleen was dumbstruck. What was that about? Certain the tears were fake seconds before, Vanessa’s cracking voice made her wonder.
Nathaniel slowly lifted his head, the hand that held enchilada dripping from his fork frozen above his plate. That wasn’t hurt in his eyes. Was it?
“Married?” Did his voice crack on the word? No, it couldn’t have. Nathaniel would have to be sober for that to happen. Light caught Mitchum’s upraised wine glass and glanced directly into Kathleen’s eyes making her squint.
“Let’s do it, let’s get married!” Latin music pumped from the band near the bar. On the beach nearby, the light from the Malecon was dim so that she could barely see the smile transforming Jackson’s face. He pulled her to him, pressed his lips to hers.
“Is that a proposal?” he asked. She smelled strawberries on his breath, strawberries tinged with rum, triple sec, and maybe vodka. They were both drunk but she didn’t care. Being drunk didn’t mean she didn’t know what she was doing. She wanted Jackson in her life. She kissed him back.
“Yes. Marry me and we’ll live six months of the year in Texas and six months of the year in New York. You’ll take the world by storm with your showing and then Jester Eight will take the Equestrian title. We’ll have the perfect life.”
Kathleen snapped out of the flashback in time to hear her father say, “You got married in Mexico?”
Oh, God, she’d done this. She’d proposed to Jackson, why she couldn’t imagine. But she did it. This was all her fault. She had to tell him. Definitely had to let him out of this crazy act and face the music with Grandfather. This wasn’t a trick to raise Jackson’s reputation or take her money as she thought for that wild moment in the pool cabana. This was all on her. She had to face Grandfather with the truth — that she was a drunk just like her father, unworthy and unable to run the ranch. Kathleen tried to find her voice but her mouth would only open and close mutely.
Texas Wishes: The Complete Series Page 6
